


Freckles and Constellations

by lilaestheticsnhope



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: First Date, Fluffy, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, descriptive making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaestheticsnhope/pseuds/lilaestheticsnhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon and Baz have never had a proper first date. Baz wants to have one... and cross a few other things off of his list of things to do with Simon Snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freckles and Constellations

Baz

    Penny wouldn't be home, not for a while actually, she is spending her holiday with her boyfriend, Micah, and his family. I intend to to kiss every freckle and mole on Simon's skin. All the places I spent years marveling over, from that determined brow, to those cliff-collar bones, and it's all going to start with dinner. We never go out. Uni is a lot more demanding the Watford... academically. I haven't been attacked by any magickal creatures since I left Watford, so it is at least relaxing in that one sense. We haven't had time to even properly hold hands in the past few months. Christmas was fine, we celebrated our anniversary by not leaving bed. It was magnificent... but this is different. I plan to take him on a proper date, because with the war, and the transition from Watford to Uni we still haven't gotten a chance to properly court.

    I set out something nice for Simon to wear. I bought it for him a while ago, and was saving it for a special occasion. Our first date seems special enough. Simon has a thing for routine dressing. He might have given up his uniform, but he still wears the same things in various colors. His jumpers were soft and warm, and he'd wear them over a button up, with jeans and converse. He always looked warm and comfortable, especially since Penny and Professor Bunce found a spell to properly get rid of his wings and tail. (I'll admit that sometimes I miss them.) I leave a note on top of the clothes I've set on his bed, before leaving the apartment Simon and Penny share. I have to get ready for our date.

Simon

    I drop the groceries on the counter with a huff. It's almost disconcerting to come into an empty apartment. I'm so accustomed to seeing Penny or Baz lounging on the sofa. I put away the groceries, and pull off my jumper, throwing it on the sofa as I go to my room. The first thing I notice are the clothes on my bed (mostly because I intended to dive on the bed and lie there for the next few hours.)

_ I've got something planned, put this on be ready by 20:00  _ It's Baz's handwriting, and the clothes under the note look just as posh as everything he ever wears. I don't see why he wants me to war this in particular. I have plenty of clothes. He actually picked out a lot of them. I let the note fall between my fingers, as I look at the clock on the night table. I will have to get dressed immediately if I don't want to keep him waiting. I can't help but to think the way he phrased that note is ominous. I never like it when Baz has something " _ planned".  _ It makes me suspicious. Yes, I know that's ridiculous and by this point in our life, I know he's not really up to anything. Old habits die hard, I guess. 

    The suit is quite nice. It fits well, and I feel sort of like some kind of backwards fairy tale prince getting ready. I've been fussing with my hair for the past few minutes out of pure anxiety. It looks fine, or I guess it would look fine if I left alone. What the heck is Baz planning? Are we going to go to an opera or something. Aleister Crowley if that man makes me go to an opera I am going to kill him. What if it's a ballet? Or some overly fancy restaurant, and I won’t have a clue which fork to use and how to eat the food. I'm going to embarrass him and everyone is going to stare at me like I'm some kind of buffoon, because I am.

    The door to the apartment opens and I leave out of my room to meet Baz because I know it's him. I've become overly familiar with his footsteps over the years. I want to demand to know what he's planning right away, but he's wearing a grey button up that brings out his eyes, and how the hell does he get his hair to do that. It just swoops perfectly away from his forehead! It doesn't matter what happens to him, I could mess his hair up with my hands three thousand times and that swoop would stay intact. It's been that way since we were eleven. I know, because I punched him once and his hair stayed the same. What kind of spell does he have in place?! I wanna fuck up his hair!... I want to do some other things to involving the word “fuck”, but that is not the point right now. Baz has a plan and I need to get to the bottom of it.

"You're red, Snow," he smiles. Why the hell is he like this?

"You're planning something," I sputter out, brilliantly. I might as well just accuse him of high treason by this point.

    "I am," He agrees, taking my hand and pulling me towards the door, "and if we don't leave right now, we are going to be late."

    "I don't like surprises," I grumble and let him lead me because I guess he's my boyfriend and whatever he's got planned can't be too horrible. Plus he'll be there with me, so by default it can't be the worst time of my life... unless we're going to see a ventriloquist... or going to a horse show... what if he's taking me horseback riding.

"Relax, Snow. I'm not trying to kill you. That's so two years ago," he jokes.

"Where are we going?" I demand.

    "You don't trust me?" he smiles wider. Baz finds this all so amusing. I bet we're going to go to an overly posh restaurant, where there'll be an opera, a ballet, and a ventriloquist then we'll go horseback riding. We'll do it all in one night because he loves to upset me. He puts his hands on either side of my face, and tilts my head up so he can kiss me.

"Have a little faith, Snow. I'm not going to kill you."

"I know you aren't going to kill me, Baz. I'm not stupid." I sigh. He gives me a look of disbelief, "I'm not!" I insist.

"We're going on a date. We've never gone on a date before."

    "Aren't you suppose to ask someone on a date not just assume they want to go?" Yes, I'm being a child about this. No, I don't plan on being more mature.

    "Simon Snow," he began taking one of my hands and lifting it up to his mouth. He pressed a soft kiss to each of my fingers before continuing, "Would you please do me the honor of accompanying me this evening for dinner?"

    My heart is in my throat and my entire body is hot. I'm not even sure I remember English. He's looking at me with his eyes, and he's still got my hand so close to his mouth. For the sake of my sanity I look away from him, and clear my throat.

    "Well?" he questions.

    "Fine," I spit out, " We better not be going to some fancy restaurant with 11 different forks, or something ridiculous like that." I can not let him know I'm flustered. He can't win this. I mean this isn't a competition, but if it was he'd be winning right now and I can't let him know that. I pull my hand out of his grasp and go straight to the door. The more space between me and Baz the better. If I slip up and jump him right here in the front room we won't get dinner, and he'll know the effect he has over me. I can't let that happen; I love dinner and I love my dignity. I wrenched open the door and put on a smile. Two could play the ridiculously charming and attractive card.

"After you, darling," I prompt.

Baz

We made it to the restaurant just in time. I have to say this has got to be one of my greatest ideas ever. I've never seen him so properly flustered. If I knew taking Snow out to a simple restaurant would throw him so far off his game I would have slaughtered him in a fine restaurant ages ago... or at the very least at a nice pub. Now he sat across from me, bright red even in the dim lighting, glaring warily at the candle between us. He was trying so hard not to stare at me. 

"I take you to a nice restaurant and you repay me by glaring at me," I tease, leaning forward to smile at him.

"I just," He brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, "I feel weird. I've never done this before."

"That's why it's our first date."

"No, I mean.... I've never been on a date before."

    "Nonsense, you dated Agatha," I dismiss. Simon is the only one between us with any kind of experience with dating. This isn't as new to him as it is to me. I've never been in love before.

    "Agatha was my girlfriend... we didn't go on dates really... I mean not like anything romantic with candles.... and where we dressed up. I also... I didn't feel like I do with you. " his voice wanes as he gets to the end of his sentence and instead of looking at me, he's fiddling with the corner of his napkin. I want to kiss the freckles on his neck, connect them all with my tongue like I'm playing the best game of connect-the-dots known to man.

"And how do you feel about me," I coax, because I'm cruel and vain, and I love it when he's flustered.

"I feel like you're being a narcissistic arsehole."

    "Mm, I love it when you talk dirty to me," I grin, pulling a laugh out of him. His smile is enough to justify the creation of the universe. It's enough to justify my life.

"I told you, I'm a rubbish boyfriend," he laughs, "I'm not good with dates... and romance. I fought monsters... now..."

    "Now, you are a star student in Uni, and the boyfriend of one of the most handsome men I have ever seen. I'd say you're doing quite well for yourself, if you ask me."

    "Of course you think so. I'm just saying that, all of this it's... new," he bites his lip and I know he's taunting me. There is nothing innocent about the way his teeth sink into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. It's not fair, and it's uncalled for. All I can think about is what it's like to have Simon Snow’s bottom lip between my teeth.  He picks up his menu, blocking my view of his entire face. I want to do something dramatic like snatch away the menu and throw it across the room. Then maybe I'd shove the contents of the table on to the floor and jump him right here. That's too risky, the candle could pose a problem.

    "Good, I know what everything is," he mumbles. I know better than to take him somewhere too fancy. He's got the table manners, and tastes of a four year old. He'd loath a five star restaurant.

"I was careful to choose a place that suits you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You don't have more than one fork to choose from."

    "Well, I know what I'm having. What about you?" he asks, closing his menu, and looking up to me. I let a smile pull at one side of my mouth. I have to get him back for the lip biting thing.

"You."

    I've never been more into the color red than I am when it's the color of his skin. This was a real Catch 22. Now all I could think about was making him glow red other places, and whoops before we know it my mind is not in a PG-13 place.

    "Well you can't eat me, at least not in public... or wait not at all but especially not in public- Baz, you can't eat me," he sputters. Bloody hell, I can't win. Everything he does is so endearing.

    "Well then, I guess I'll just eat when I get home then."  I lean closer to him, staring into his bright blue eyes. I want to eat him alive, in a good way. I look at him and I begin to map out exactly where I want to kiss him, where I want to trail my tongue. The waiter comes and takes our orders. I order something because I know it bothers Simon if I just watch him eat. Maybe it's creepy, but I love to watch him eat. He always looks so content with his food, like a pig in mud, or a cat in freshly dried laundry. He orders dessert too, because he's got a sweet tooth to rival a small child's and he has the metabolism to sustain it. I can not wait to get him home.

Simon

I think dinner is going well. The food was absolutely delicious. I’ve just finished dessert and Baz is looking at me oddly. I don’t even know how the hell to explain it. It’s like he’s hungry or something… but it’s not the same. I’ve seen him hungry. I don’t even think his fangs have popped. 

“You okay, Baz?” I question. He’s resting his chin on the bridge he’s made with his finger. 

“Splendid, why do you ask?” 

He seems like he’s telling the truth so I shrug. I’m not sure what to do with myself, and I can feel my entire face getting impossibly warmer. I feel like I’ve blushed through this entire dinner, and I feel like an idiot. 

“Are you okay?” he asks grinning, “You look a bit flushed.” 

“Oh shut up,” I huff, “Why do I even waste my concern on you?” 

“I’ll remind you when we get back to your place.” his mouth is now in this devastating smirk. It’s just the right mix of arrogant and charming, and his teeth are glistening in the light. I want to kiss him, but there’s a table and a candle on the table. Instead, I just openly stare at him, trying to figure out a socially acceptable way to say “You really didn’t even have to take me to dinner.” It was true. He could have come in and hopped right in my bed. I am way easier than Baz thinks I am… which is good. It means he has respect for me… one of us has to. 

“Are you done?” he questions, as his gaze wanders away from me. 

“Yes,” I manage. Maybe it was the wine making me like this. I knew the second glass was a bad idea, but it tasted more like grape juice than alcohol, so I figured how bad could it be. Our waiter comes with the bill and Baz takes it before I even have time to fight him about it. He slides his credit card card into the folder and hands it back immediately. His eyes fall back on me as he brings his wine glass up to his lips. I can’t believe I ever questioned whether or not I liked Baz. The man is innocently drinking his wine (actually maybe not innocently, I don’t think Baz is capable of doing anything innocently) and I am entranced. The red liquid stains his pale lips as he drains the glass and when he puts down the glass he licks the color away. I’m suddenly very impatient for that waiter to come back with his credit card. 

Baz

I barely got into the apartment, before Simon was stretching up on his toes to kiss me. I obliged him, leaning down so our lips could touch. His lips were warm, like they just came straight out the oven. I loved his impatient kisses just as much as I hated them. They made it very hard to concentrate, and we were set with the task of navigating his apartment. Bunce was just like her mother, in the sense that she had stacks of books and papers lying about. She’d throw a fit if we knocked one over; not that I cared. I grab the back of Simon’s neck in an effort to restrain him, so I can see where we’re going. He makes an impatient sound when I pull him away from my mouth and it makes me smile. Only Simon could be so simultaneously demanding and adorable. 

“I’d like to make it to the bedroom. I’ve got class, we aren’t going to just snog against the wall.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” he grumbles. 

“Yes, but I’ve properly taken you to dinner now,” I tease, pulling him through the apartment to his room, only for him to attack me the moment we’re close enough to the bed for his liking. As nice as this is, it’s not really what I had planned. He always manages to surprise me, I expected to be the aggressive one, but no here I am pinned beneath Simon fucking Snow as his tongue trails down my neck. I am supposed to be doing this to  _ him.  _ The pitiful sounds I’m making are supposed to be coming from  _ him _ not me. He lifts up on all fours over me, and he looks delightfully wrecked. I know he expects me to reach up for his mouth and I almost do. Instead, I push him over so I’m on top, so I can kiss all the places I’ve been contemplating since forever. 

I begin to unbutton his shirt (he lost his blazer either in my car or in the living room). His chest is heaving in uneven little spurts, and the blush on his face continues down his throat and onto his chest. There’s a grouping of freckles on his chest that if I took a sharpie to them, I could make a damn good constellation. I don’t have a sharpie so I use my tongue. In my head I’ve made a visible kite, and then a bit lower I connect the dots to make a heart. Maybe this is excessive and weird, but I’ll be damned before I stop. Simon doesn’t seem to want me to stop, his breathing is even more wrecked than when we started, and every now and again his breath catches on a moan. 

Now there’s a set of freckles and moles that I have always theorized that if I connected the lines right, I could make a pentagram. Imagine doing a satanic ritual on Simon’s stomach… it is hot as hell. If I were a lesser person I might have laughed out loud at that, and if Simon wasn’t writhing beneath me. He’s too distracting for me to laugh at my own hilarious jokes. My tongue sweeps over a ticklish spot and I relish in the sound of his breathy laughter. I’m a glutton so I lick there again, and again until he’s pulling at my hair and laughing so hard he can’t breath. I stop then and crawl back up the length of his body. 

Simon

The light from the window wakes me, and I glance over at the clock just out of habit. It’s nearly noon. Baz has me in a near unbreakable hold. The only way to get out of bed is to wake him, and that seems like a crime worthy of death. His face is resting on my chest and he looks so damn peaceful. As I look down at him, I notice the array of red marks on my chest and I’m sure there’s more than a few on my neck. I’m gonna kick his arse when he wakes up, but until then, I just close my eyes again and listen to his breath come and go. 

**Author's Note:**

> I own absolutely nothing. These characters belong to the talented Rainbow Rowell.


End file.
